The Eternal King

In these hopeless fogs of Grey

Lying pitifully, I pray

To the sinless nights of yesterday

Before my soul went in disarray.

Disconnecting from the stars

I once sought this petty farce –

Foolish dream to make the world ours

But it led to the backseat of a hearse.

How could I, mighty fool, forget

The day my journey met its offset

Seeing as that day, the king signaled a threat

That his entire kingdom would be beset

But alas, the fire burns;

In the cauldron, the spoon stirs

As the fate’s roulette turns

And spins dizzily unrehearsed

One might think it deserves a rest

I thought the same of the king’s conquest

As I assailed him, disguised as a guest

Finding Gyges’ Ring in his vest.

And what awful dreams may come!

In the visions of the king’s cauldron

One finds there are many Recalcitrants

Who rest under the spell of the Establishment

And I, who spat on Machiavellian ethics,

Was confronted with revealing the Matrix

To many who’re oblivious to the basics

And who’d be unhesitant to have me beheaded

But the choice was not mine to make

As there was no more room for mistakes

Destiny picked me, the Warrior, for this task

And to recoil from fate is to wear a mask

To hide from the duty we accepted

When we took our first breath, though hectic

But since this decision was eclectic

Its purpose is thus dialectic.

So off to the balcony I went

And spoke my last words of dissent

As the crowd turned to a flame of discontent

And fell into immediate consent

I’ll be their ashes, in the sky

Protective, always flying by

In the wind of Time disguised

Like a thief in the night.

Essence

On my path to Mystery

I have found but one city

Where the peaceful night idly

Glows with liberty brightly.

When the nightly soul concurs

With the rhythm of the birds

Chanting wildly what occurs

‘hind the thoughts of all our words.

I partake in the conquest

Of destruction of nonsense

Which blinds victims from progress

In its pitiful darkness.

Future yells its hopeful slurs

While Past insolubly deters

With the resignation of the herds

And the desperation of an absurd

Mind-clogging fear of imagination –

Binding chain of the spirit’s stagnation

Leading to the dark chamber’of temptation

Where the only exit is damnation.

What destruction may follow

In the shallow sorrow of morrow

Is powerless in the hollow

Interior of the Truth’s arrows

And as I lie inside it Now

And prepare my sinless vow,

One can see under my furrowed brow

A reflection of the Present’s wow.

♥

If you get your heart attached
You might get a heart attack.

A Promise

You said you would write something. You made that promise. Are your promises all hollow words, carved out of dreams? There is a difference between ideals and reaching them.

You have to run fast to reach them. Because first of all, karma is chasing you from behind, and second of all, your dreams are running away from you. If you look back to when you were little, you can remember how your dreams were right there, with you. Your mind was so creative and beautiful that you were in perfect balance with your dreams. You lived, you loved and you laughed.

Then you were taught to fear. Fear school teachers that punish you if you get bad grades, that yell at you if you misbehave, that shun your imagination and tell you you need to learn by heart instead of learning with your heart. Fear strangers who might kidnap you if you’re walking alone down the street. Fear the homeless because they’re dirty, crazy drug addicts. Fear change, because we need to adapt to a situation and put our grip on it as if there is no other. Fear love, because love makes fools of men. Fear yourself, because you represent a potential danger to society. Fear your wildest dreams, for they are nothing but nonsensical, childish reveries.

You were taught to love fear and to fear love.

So how can I trust you when you say ‘you promise’ when you function through fear and distrust? How can we live with Machiavellian ethics and expect to flourish as Aristotle? How can we find God if we fear change and we fear the unknown? How can you besiege the fortress of your fears when you are on your knees for its King? How can you assuage your own pain if you are indifferent to the pain of others? Do you look in the mirror and see yourself? Or do you see the shadow of a child whose mind brought wonders to the world?

If only I knew how to write when I was 3 years old. I would’ve written the greatest book of all. If my love for the world wouldn’t have faded away along with my will to do anything to reach my freedom and my happiness, which now I only pretend to still have, I would’ve been able to guide the world with my Light. Instead, when I look in the mirror, into my eyes, I’m blinded by the glimmering light of the child that withered, drowned by hopelessness.

Now I’m left only with one hope. The hope that one day, that child will be reborn like a mighty Phoenix, flying over the world’s sorrows into the night’s visions of Utopia. A vision where he is running free, without the worries of a mean karma chasing him or of a dream running away from him.

Shadow of a Lion

I got the shadow of a lion walking through the valley of darkness

There’s no kindness in my way, I run away from the sadness…

I could eat them all but I’d get an indigestion, so I’m filled with questions

To be or not to be, dual intentions, my halo won’t last much more

My soul is sore, I’m trying to crawl back to the core

But I’m stuck in the narrow path of loneliness.

I got the shadow of a lion walking through the valley of darkness

There’s no kindness in my way, I run away from the sadness…

Horses

The horses running away from themselves leave a trail of light behind. Their Sun is a ball of rope. Its end is tied to their foot. They are all one. The ink that writes about them is their only existence in our realm. We don't have eyes to see them. We have robots to produce our rope. We have robots to run our race. But we don't have any robot to show us the light. We only have a reflection of it that blinds us. Our confusion is a vicious cycle directly linked to our collective amnesia and growing insanity.

Sleep

I was just sitting, gazing at the never-ending input received by my neurons, which painted vivid images of beautiful illusions. On my comfortable bench, breathing the fresh spring air with the emerging scents of different new-born flowers, lay a body maneuvered by invisible strings that only exist outside of space and time. My body. The delicate fingers of a soul pulled my hand to my mouth and allowed me to take a puff of my rolled cigarette. The strings were connected to each pore of my skin. Each breath I took was a gift of God. Each time I took a breath, another would exhale his last, passing on part of their energy to the big soul that was pulling the strings of all the souls pulling human strings. In return, he would allow my soul to transmit another breath to me. The cycle of the universe was based on destruction and creation. But outside space and time, there was only multiplication. At our space-time stage, you only learn the basics – addition and subtraction. Up there, you’re taught the multiplication table of existence. Infinity is ever-expanding. Only God can count by how much. In our world, you have a set amount of energy. Ask Lavoisier. And because of this limitation, we have to make choices.

The universe is shedding martyr blood. The Tree of Life seeps it.

Today, we made pipelines to make this transfer more efficient. Our collective consciousness has amnesia. All the ancient cultures’ general knowledge is known today only by an incredibly small percentage of the world’s population. The big giant called the West is dressed nice, has a perfect body, but is mentally and spiritually challenged. He’s stronger than everyone else in the playground and rips apart everyone else’s drawings, kicks all the balls over the fence and steals everyone’s lunch money.

The geeks are too anti-social to gather and fight back against him.

I sneeze and wake from my daydream. Am I becoming allergic to this illusion?

Comfort

Everybody is wrapping themselves with the same blankets of comfortable patterns that they see in the past. Everybody is afraid to shift from the patterns and to create their own.

The Light

We adapted to the Sun. Our eyes only see what the Sun shines upon. If there is no sunlight, there is no physical vision.

In darkness, our third eye opens. With the third eye, we see reality. It gives us the knowledge and the light of the Good.

The dilemma is how to keep your sanity. There is no vision lens for the third eye.

Fortunately, the light of the Good never burns, because the Pineal Gland is filled with water.

However, the water can calcify, which is why it is necessary to avoid fluoride.

Plato knew all this. Why is it that after thousands of years of humanity having this knowledge, we choose to ignore it now?

We live in the Era of Darkness, where we are bombarded with information, but we lack knowledge.

Even our Clouds are illusions. Chemtrails that kill us. We believe in a fake Paradise. We live in a scientific dictatorship, where everyone is blind, dancing the nihilist dance.

We drink poison and quickly feast upon invisible food.

We allow ourselves to be pleasured by the suffering of others. We are the Modern Man, who is better than everyone else. The Modern Man is a White Man lying to the rest of the world. If you are a White Man, you have Privileges. If not, then you are graded using racial and sexual profiling. If you are African or Asian, you are destined to a miserable life. No need for further details, you know them very well. The White Man lives with double-think, unaware of his Privileges, but in the same time keeping them in his pocket, like a Debit Card. Their safety is banked.

Ignorance is blister.

Infected. Snake bite.

We are back in the Cave.

Our fate has been written before the beginning of time.

Here, have this addiction. Follow this routine for all your life. Allow me to inject you with the cure of Cognitive Dissonance. It will allow you the illusion of happiness. Your mind will always be stuck in the mind state that I want the collective to have. Collective mind control. Military dictatorship. Waking up is equal to a fish going on land. Awakened people are no longer adapted to the environment I’ve created. I succeeded in playing God by modifying the natural route of evolution. I have no face, but I have the world to myself. I can squash the whole population like a cockroach under my foot, but I’m disgusted to do it barefoot, so I’ll put my Army shoes on. Then I can toss the Army shoes in the bin. Maybe that’s exactly what I’ll do. The world is my basketball. I can make the majority believe a whole continent is smaller than it really is. Africa is not important. No one needs to know its real size. 2 + 2 = 5. I am Big Brother.

I am O’Brien. I am the resistance. I am Winston. I am the only one who is. I am the powerful, akrasian leader. My will is not mine, actually. I’m the Devil’s puppet, but I don’t mind. He’s leading me to more and more power, and it feels so good. I have no patience to comprehend my condition. I am the elite. I am the perfect human, and nothing more. I do not wish to be anything else. I wish to be immortal and all-powerful. I own 7 billion people in the physical and in the mental form. Why would I give that up? How could I give it up when I’m the highest you can get? This power is by far the best drug in the world. My world. That’s how I know. I know everything. I know everything because everything is created by me. Double-think is the perfect mind-state. I’ll make sure you wave and smile at me even when you leave. You’ll thank me for destroying all trace of humanity, because my mind state replaced yours before you were even born. You don’t even exist. You have no rights, no freedom. Your only freedom is the freedom to die. Get off my planet, you disgusting cockroach. There is no light here. I turned it off.

Inside the Rabbit Hole

I'm inside the rabbit hole.
And there's someone following me.
I don't know who. But there's a light coming from behind me, helping me to see in front. But how much more do I have to dig? Does it ever end?
There is no end. There are only means. The end is death.
That's when you can stop digging.

Tunnel

Listen to the wise
If you wanna be advised
And reach the end of the lies
Like a tunnel that's a mirage.

Creation

The light has a shadow. Its source doesn't.
The material world is modeled by the ego. Without the ego, there is nothing and everything in the same time.

Grain of Truth

No, I'm not insane
I just grow thoughts in my back garden
It's harder for me to not be a martyr
Cuz I'm trying to be the starter of a new chain
Of thoughts, where there's no need to barter
Sharing means expanding, our frame gets bigger
Uncountable by the figures
My aims are a sleeping eight
Join my mind state if you want to thrive
Cuz I strive for a growth rate exceeding the Sun's weight
I want light in its purest form, but not induced by chloroform
I don't want my soul to turn to foam, I want to roam God's Kingdom
I want to be an apple in the garden of Eden, and tempt the demons to their demise as time rewinds.

My First Thought

"No."